ANNIE PROTHEROE

WhenI went to the Bar as a very young man(Said I to myself—said I),I'll work on a new and original plan(Said I to myself—said I),I'll never assume that a rogue or a thiefIs a gentleman worthy implicit belief,Because his attorney has sent me a brief(Said I to myself—said I!)I'll never throw dust in a juryman's eyes(Said I to myself—said I),Or hoodwink a judge who is not over-wise(Said I to myself—said I),Or assume that the witnesses summoned in forceIn Exchequer, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Divorce,Have perjured themselves as a matter of course(Said I to myself—said I!)Ere I go into court I will read my brief through(Said I to myself—said I),And I'll never take work I'm unable to do(Said I to myself—said I).My learned profession I'll never disgraceBy taking a fee with a grin on my face,When I haven't been there to attend to the case(Said I to myself—said I!)In other professions in which men engage(Said I to myself—said I),The Army, the Navy, the Church, and the Stage(Said I to myself—said I),Professional licence, if carried too far,Your chance of promotion will certainly mar—And I fancy the rule might apply to the Bar(Said I to myself—said I!)ANNIE PROTHEROEA LEGEND OF STRATFORD-LE-BOWOh! listen to the tale of littleAnnie Protheroe,She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood ofBow,She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day—A gentle executioner whose name wasGilbert Clay.I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"O reader, do not shrink—he didn't live in modern times!He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)That all his actions glitter with the limelight of Romance.In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day—"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft" you amusingly will say—But, no—he didn't operate with common bits of string,He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea,And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree;AndAnnie'ssimple prattle entertained him on his walk,For public executions formed the subject of her talk.And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much,How famous operators vary very much in touch,And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick,And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and lookAt his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes would dance with joyIn a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentleGilbertsaid(As he helped his prettyAnnieto a slice of collared head),"This collared head reminds me that to-morrow is the dayWhen I decapitate your former lover,Peter Gray."He saw hisAnnietremble and he saw hisAnniestart,Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;YoungGilbert'smanly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,And he said, "O gentleAnnie, what's the meaning of this here?"AndAnnieanswered, blushing in an interesting way,"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felonPeter Gray:That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,But not since I began a-keeping company with you."ThenGilbert, who was irritable, rose and loudly sworeHe'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes),"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies!"Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you,Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too!Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!"AndGilbertground his molars as he answered her, "I will!"YoungGilbertrose from table with a stern determined look,And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;AndAnniewatched his movements with an interested air—For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare!He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, untilThis terrible Avenger of the Majesty of LawWas far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.AndAnniesaid, "OGilbert, dear, I do not understandWhy ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?"He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flayThe neck of that unmitigated villainPeter Gray!""Now,Gilbert,"Annieanswered, "wicked headsman just beware—I won't havePetertortured with that horrible affair;If you attempt to flay him, you will surely rue the day."But Gilbert said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way.He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,ForAnniewas awoman, and had pity in her heart!She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare;She only said, "Remember, for yourAnniewill be there!"The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold took his stand,With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,And all the people noticed that the Engine of the LawWas far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block—The hatchet was uplifted for to settlePeter Gray,WhenGilbertplainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!"'TwasAnnie, gentleAnnie, as you'll easily believe—"OGilbert, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve,It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow."I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it,Gilbert Clay,And having quite surrendered all idea ofPeter Gray,I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand,For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand."In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before)To lacerate poorPeter Grayvindictively you swore;I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day,And so you will, you monster, for I'll marryPeter Gray!"[And so she did.]SORRY HER LOTSorryher lot who loves too well,Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,Sad are the sighs that own the spellUttered by eyes that speak too plainly;Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!Sad is the hour when sets the Sun—Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters,When to the ark the wearied oneFlies from the empty waste of waters!Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESSI'vepaintedShakespeareall my life—"An infant" (even then at play),"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,Then "Married toAnn Hathaway.""The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben.")His "First appearance on the stage,"His "Call before the curtain"—then"Rejoicings when he came of age."The bard play-writing in his room,The bard a humble lawyer's clerk,The bard a lawyer[1]—parson[2]—groom[3]—The bard deer-stealing, after dark.[1]"Go with me to a notary—seal me thereYour single bond."—Merchant of Venice, Act I., sc. 3.[2]"And there she shall, at Friar Lawrence' cell,Be shrived and married."—Romeo and Juliet, Act II., sc. 4.[3]"And give their fasting horses provender."—Henry the Fifth, Act IV., sc. 2.The bard a tradesman[4]—and a Jew[5]—The bard a botanist[6]—a beak[7]—The bard a skilled musician[8]too—A sheriff[9]and a surgeon[10]eke!Yet critics say (a friendly stock)That, though with all my skill I try,Yet even I can barely mockThe glimmer of his wondrous eye!One morning as a work I framed,There passed a person, walking hard;"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed,"How very like my dear old bard!"Oh, what a model he would make!"I rushed outside—impulsive me!—"Forgive the liberty I take,But you're so very"—"Stop!" said he."You needn't waste your breath or time,—I know what you are going to say,—That you're an artist, and that I'mRemarkably likeShakespeare. Eh?[4]"Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."—Troilus and Cressida, Act I., sc. 3.[5]"Then must the Jew be merciful."—Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc. 1.[6]"The spring, the summer,The childing autumn, angry winter, changeTheir wonted liveries."—Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II., sc. 1.[7]"In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the peace andcoram."—Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I., sc. 1.[8]"What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?"—King John, Act V., sc. 2.[9]"And I'll provide his executioner."—Henry the Sixth(Second Part), Act III., sc. 1.[10]"The lioness had torn some flesh away,Which all this while had bled."—As You Like It, Act IV., sc. 3."You wish that I would sit to you?"I clasped him madly round the waist,And breathlessly replied, "I do!""All right," said he, "but please make haste."I led him by his hallowed sleeve,And worked away at him apace,I painted him till dewy eve,—There never was a nobler face!"Oh, sir," I said, "a fortune grandIs yours, by dint of merest chance,—To sporthisbrow at second-hand,To wearhiscast-off countenance!"To rubhiseyes whene'er they ache—To wearhisbaldness ere you're old—To cleanhisteeth when you awake—To blowhisnose when you've a cold!"His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;"Bravo!" I said, "I recogniseThe phrensy of your prototype!"His scanty hair he wildly tore:"That's right," said I, "it shows your breed."He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore—"Bless me, that's very fine indeed!""Sir," said the grand Shakespearian boy(Continuing to blaze away),"You think my face a source of joy;That shows you know not what you say."Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps,I'm always thrown in some such stateWhen on his face well-meaning chapsThis wretched man congratulate."For, oh! this face—this pointed chin—This nose—this brow—these eyeballs too,Have always been the originOf all the woes I ever knew!"If to the play my way I find,To see a grand Shakespearian piece,I have no rest, no ease of mindUntil the author's puppets cease!"Men nudge each other—thus—and say,'This certainly isShakespeare'sson,'And merry wags (of course in play)Cry 'Author!' when the piece is done."In church the people stare at me,Their soul the sermon never binds;I catch them looking round to see,And thoughts ofShakespearefill their minds."And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,Who find it difficult to crownA bust withBrown'sinsipid smile,OrTomkins'sunmannered frown,"Yet boldly make my face their own,When (oh, presumption!) they requireTo animate a paving-stoneWithShakespeare'sintellectual fire."At parties where young ladies gaze,And I attempt to speak my joy,'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says,'The fond illusion don't destroy!'"Whene'er I speak my soul is wrungWith these or some such whisperings;''Tis pity that aShakespeare'stongueShould say such un-Shakespearian things!'"I should not thus be criticisedHad I a face of common wont:Don't envy me—now, be advised!"And, now I think of it, I don't!THE CONTEMPLATIVE SENTRYWhenall night long a chap remainsOn sentry-go, to chase monotonyHe exercises of his brains,That is, assuming that he's got any.Though never nurtured in the lapOf luxury, yet I admonish you,I am an intellectual chap,And think of things that would astonish you.I often think it's comicalHow Nature always does contriveThat every boy and every gal,That's born into the world alive,Is either a little Liberal,Or else a little Conservative!Fal lal la!When in that house M.P.'s divide,If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,They've got to leave that brain outside,And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.But then the prospect of a lotOf statesmen, all in close proximity,A-thinking for themselves, is whatNo man can face with equanimity.Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lalThat Nature wisely does contriveThat every boy and every gal,That's born into the world alive,Is either a little Liberal,Or else a little Conservative!Fal lal la!GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.A leafycot, where no dry rotHad ever been by tenant seen,Where ivy clung and wopses stung,Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed,Where treeses grew and breezes blew—A thatchy roof, quite waterproof,Where countless herds of dicky-birdsBuilt twiggy beds to lay their heads(My mother begs I'll make it "eggs,"But though it's true that dickies doConstruct a nest with chirpy noise,With view to rest their eggy joys,'Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,As I explain to her in vainFive hundred times, are faulty rhymes).'Neath such a cot, built on a plotOf freehold land, dweltMaryandHer worthy father, named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.He knew no guile, this simple man,No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,Except that plot of freehold landThat held the cot, andMary, andHer worthy father, named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.A grave and learned scholar he,Yet simple as a child could be.He'd shirk his meal to sit and cramA goodish deal of Eton Gram.No man alive could him nonplusWith vocative offilius;No man alive more fully knewThe passive of a verb or two;None better knew the worth than heOf words that end inb,d,t.Upon his green in early springHe might be seen endeavouringTo understand the hooks and crooksOfHenryand his Latin books;Or calling for his "Cæsar onThe Gallic War," like any don;Or, p'raps, expounding unto allHow mythicBalbusbuilt a wall.So lived the sage who's named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.To him one autumn day there cameA lovely youth of mystic name:He took a lodging in the house,And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,For, oh! that mild scholastic oneLet shooting for a single gun.By three or four, when sport was o'er,The Mystic One laid by his gun,And made sheep's eyes of giant size,Till after tea, atMary P.AndMary P.(so kind was she),She, too, made eyes of giant size,Whose every dart right through the heartAppeared to run that Mystic One.The Doctor's whim engrossing him,He did not know they flirted so.For, save at tea, "musa musæ,"As I'm advised, monopolisedAnd rendered blind his giant mind.But looking up above his cupOne afternoon, he saw them spoon."Aha!" quoth he, "you naughty lass!As quaint oldOvidsays, 'Amas!'"The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,And, claiming ruth, he said, "In soothI love your daughter, aged man:Refuse to join us if you can.Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,I'm wealthy though I'm lowly born.""Young sir," the aged scholar said,"I never thought you meant to wed:Engrossed completely with my books,I little noticed lovers' looks.I've lived so long away from man,I do not know of any planBy which to test a lover's worth,Except, perhaps, the test of birth.I've half forgotten in this wildA father's duty to his child.It is his place, I think it's said,To see his daughters richly wedTo dignitaries of the earth—If possible, of noble birth.If noble birth is not at hand,A father may, I understand(And this affords a chance for you),Be satisfied to wed her toABoucicaultorBaring—whichMeans any one who's very rich.Now, there's an Earl who lives hard by,—My child and I will go and tryIf he will make the maid his bride—If not, to you she shall be tied."They sought the Earl that very day;The Sage began to say his say.The Earl (a very wicked man,Whose face bore Vice's blackest ban)Cut short the scholar's simple tale,And said in voice to make them quail,"Pooh! go along! you're drunk, no doubt—Here,Peters, turn these people out!"The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,Returning, met the Mystic Youth."My darling boy," the Scholar said,"TakeMary—blessings on your head!"The Mystic Boy undid his vest,And took a parchment from his breast,And said, "Now, by that noble brow,I ne'er knew father such as thou!The sterling rule of common senseNow reaps its proper recompense.Rejoice, my soul's unequalled Queen,For I amDuke of Gretna Green!"THE PHILOSOPHIC PILLI'vewisdom from the East and from the West,That's subject to no academic rule;You may find it in the jeering of a jest,Or distil it from the folly of a fool.I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind;I can trick you into learning with a laugh;Oh, winnow all my folly, and you'll findA grain or two of truth among the chaff!I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,The upstart I can wither with a whim;He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,But his laughter has an echo that is grim.When they're offered to the world in merry guise,Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will—For he who'd make his fellow-creatures wiseShould always gild the philosophic pill!THE KING OF CANOODLE-DUMThestory ofFrederick Gowler,A mariner of the sea,Who quitted his ship, theHowler,A-sailing in Caribbee.For many a day he wandered,Till he met, in a state of rum,Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop.The King of Canoodle-Dum.That monarch addressed him gaily,"Hum! Golly de do to-day?Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee"—(You notice his playful way?)—"What dickens you doin' here, sar?Why debbil you want to come?Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn't no seaIn City Canoodle-Dum!"AndGowlerhe answered sadly,"Oh, mine is a doleful tale!They've treated me werry badlyIn Lunnon, from where I hail.I'm one of the Family Royal—No common Jack Tar you see;I'mWilliam the Fourth, far up in the North,A King in my own countree!"Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered!Bang-bang! How they thumped the gongs!Bang-bang! How the people wondered!Bang-bang! At it, hammer and tongs!Alliance with Kings of EuropeIs an honour Canoodlers seek;Her monarchs don't stop withPeppermint DropEvery day in the week!Fredtold them that he wasundone,For his people all went insane,And fired the Tower of London,And Grinnidge's Naval Fane.And some of them racked St. James's,And vented their rage uponThe Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers' Hall,And the "Angel" at Islington.Calamity Popimplored himAt Canoodle-Dum to remainTill those people of his restored himTo power and rank again.Calamity Pophe made himA Prince of Canoodle-Dum,With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves,And the run of the royal rum.Popgave him his only daughter,Hum Pickety Wimple Tip:Fredvowed that if over the waterHe went, in an English ship,He'd make her his Queen,—though truly,It is an unusual thingFor a Caribbee brat who's as black as your hatTo be wife of an English King.And all the Canoodle-DummersThey copied his rolling walk,His method of draining rummers,His emblematical talk.For his dress and his graceful breeding,His delicate taste in rum,And his nautical way, were the talk of the dayIn the Court of Canoodle-Dum.Calamity Popmost wiselyDetermined in everythingTo model his Court preciselyOn that of the English King;And ordered that every ladyAnd every lady's lordShould masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy)And scatter its juice abroad.They signified wonder roundlyAt any astounding yarn,By darning their dear eyes roundly('Twas all that they had to darn).They "hoisted their slacks," adjustingGarments of plantain-leavesWith nautical twitches (as if they wore—stitches.Instead of a dress likeEve's!)They shivered their timbers proudly,At a phantom fore-lock dragged,And called for a hornpipe loudlyWhenever amusement flagged."Hum! Golly! himPopresemble,Him Britisher sov'reign, hum!Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop,De King of Canoodle-Dum!"The mariner's lively "Hollo!"Enlivened Canoodle's plain(For blessings unnumbered followIn Civilisation's train).But Fortune, who loves a bathos,A terrible ending planned,ForAdmiral D. Chickabiddy, C.B.,Placed foot on Canoodle land!That officer seizedKing Gowler;He threatened his royal brains,And put him aboard theHowler,And fastened him down with chains.TheHowlershe weighed her anchor,WithFredericknicely nailed,And off to the North withWilliam the FourthThat Admiral slowly sailed.Calamitysaid (with folly)"Hum! nebber want him again—Him civilise all of us, golly!Calamitysuck him brain!"The people, however, were pained whenThey saw him aboard the ship,But none of them wept for theirFreddy, exceptHum Pickity Wimple Tip.BLUE BLOODSpurnnot the nobly bornWith love affected,Nor treat with virtuous scornThe well connected.High rank involves no shame—We boast an equal claimWith him of humble nameTo be respected!Blue blood! Blue blood!When virtuous love is sought,Thy power is naught,Though dating from the Flood,Blue blood!Spare us the bitter painOf stern denials,Nor with low-born disdainAugment our trials.Hearts just as pure and fairMay beat in Belgrave SquareAs in the lowly airOf Seven Dials!Blue blood! Blue blood!Of what avail art thouTo serve me now?Though dating from the Flood,Blue blood!FIRST LOVE

WhenI went to the Bar as a very young man

(Said I to myself—said I),

I'll work on a new and original plan

(Said I to myself—said I),

I'll never assume that a rogue or a thief

Is a gentleman worthy implicit belief,

Because his attorney has sent me a brief

(Said I to myself—said I!)

I'll never throw dust in a juryman's eyes(Said I to myself—said I),Or hoodwink a judge who is not over-wise(Said I to myself—said I),Or assume that the witnesses summoned in forceIn Exchequer, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Divorce,Have perjured themselves as a matter of course(Said I to myself—said I!)

I'll never throw dust in a juryman's eyes

(Said I to myself—said I),

Or hoodwink a judge who is not over-wise

(Said I to myself—said I),

Or assume that the witnesses summoned in force

In Exchequer, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Divorce,

Have perjured themselves as a matter of course

(Said I to myself—said I!)

Ere I go into court I will read my brief through(Said I to myself—said I),And I'll never take work I'm unable to do(Said I to myself—said I).My learned profession I'll never disgraceBy taking a fee with a grin on my face,When I haven't been there to attend to the case(Said I to myself—said I!)

Ere I go into court I will read my brief through

(Said I to myself—said I),

And I'll never take work I'm unable to do

(Said I to myself—said I).

My learned profession I'll never disgrace

By taking a fee with a grin on my face,

When I haven't been there to attend to the case

(Said I to myself—said I!)

In other professions in which men engage(Said I to myself—said I),The Army, the Navy, the Church, and the Stage(Said I to myself—said I),Professional licence, if carried too far,Your chance of promotion will certainly mar—And I fancy the rule might apply to the Bar(Said I to myself—said I!)

In other professions in which men engage

(Said I to myself—said I),

The Army, the Navy, the Church, and the Stage

(Said I to myself—said I),

Professional licence, if carried too far,

Your chance of promotion will certainly mar—

And I fancy the rule might apply to the Bar

(Said I to myself—said I!)

Oh! listen to the tale of littleAnnie Protheroe,She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood ofBow,She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day—A gentle executioner whose name wasGilbert Clay.I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"O reader, do not shrink—he didn't live in modern times!He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)That all his actions glitter with the limelight of Romance.In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day—"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft" you amusingly will say—But, no—he didn't operate with common bits of string,He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea,And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree;AndAnnie'ssimple prattle entertained him on his walk,For public executions formed the subject of her talk.And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much,How famous operators vary very much in touch,And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick,And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and lookAt his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes would dance with joyIn a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentleGilbertsaid(As he helped his prettyAnnieto a slice of collared head),"This collared head reminds me that to-morrow is the dayWhen I decapitate your former lover,Peter Gray."He saw hisAnnietremble and he saw hisAnniestart,Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;YoungGilbert'smanly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,And he said, "O gentleAnnie, what's the meaning of this here?"AndAnnieanswered, blushing in an interesting way,"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felonPeter Gray:That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,But not since I began a-keeping company with you."ThenGilbert, who was irritable, rose and loudly sworeHe'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes),"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies!"Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you,Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too!Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!"AndGilbertground his molars as he answered her, "I will!"YoungGilbertrose from table with a stern determined look,And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;AndAnniewatched his movements with an interested air—For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare!He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, untilThis terrible Avenger of the Majesty of LawWas far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.AndAnniesaid, "OGilbert, dear, I do not understandWhy ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?"He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flayThe neck of that unmitigated villainPeter Gray!""Now,Gilbert,"Annieanswered, "wicked headsman just beware—I won't havePetertortured with that horrible affair;If you attempt to flay him, you will surely rue the day."But Gilbert said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way.He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,ForAnniewas awoman, and had pity in her heart!She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare;She only said, "Remember, for yourAnniewill be there!"The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold took his stand,With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,And all the people noticed that the Engine of the LawWas far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block—The hatchet was uplifted for to settlePeter Gray,WhenGilbertplainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!"'TwasAnnie, gentleAnnie, as you'll easily believe—"OGilbert, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve,It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow."I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it,Gilbert Clay,And having quite surrendered all idea ofPeter Gray,I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand,For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand."In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before)To lacerate poorPeter Grayvindictively you swore;I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day,And so you will, you monster, for I'll marryPeter Gray!"[And so she did.]

Oh! listen to the tale of littleAnnie Protheroe,

She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood ofBow,

She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day—

A gentle executioner whose name wasGilbert Clay.

I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"O reader, do not shrink—he didn't live in modern times!He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)That all his actions glitter with the limelight of Romance.

I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"

O reader, do not shrink—he didn't live in modern times!

He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)

That all his actions glitter with the limelight of Romance.

In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day—"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft" you amusingly will say—But, no—he didn't operate with common bits of string,He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.

In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day—

"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft" you amusingly will say—

But, no—he didn't operate with common bits of string,

He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.

And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea,And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree;AndAnnie'ssimple prattle entertained him on his walk,For public executions formed the subject of her talk.

And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea,

And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree;

AndAnnie'ssimple prattle entertained him on his walk,

For public executions formed the subject of her talk.

And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much,How famous operators vary very much in touch,And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick,And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.

And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much,

How famous operators vary very much in touch,

And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick,

And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.

Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and lookAt his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes would dance with joyIn a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.

Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look

At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,

And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes would dance with joy

In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.

One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentleGilbertsaid(As he helped his prettyAnnieto a slice of collared head),"This collared head reminds me that to-morrow is the dayWhen I decapitate your former lover,Peter Gray."

One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentleGilbertsaid

(As he helped his prettyAnnieto a slice of collared head),

"This collared head reminds me that to-morrow is the day

When I decapitate your former lover,Peter Gray."

He saw hisAnnietremble and he saw hisAnniestart,Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;YoungGilbert'smanly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,And he said, "O gentleAnnie, what's the meaning of this here?"

He saw hisAnnietremble and he saw hisAnniestart,

Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;

YoungGilbert'smanly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,

And he said, "O gentleAnnie, what's the meaning of this here?"

AndAnnieanswered, blushing in an interesting way,"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felonPeter Gray:That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,But not since I began a-keeping company with you."

AndAnnieanswered, blushing in an interesting way,

"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felonPeter Gray:

That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,

But not since I began a-keeping company with you."

ThenGilbert, who was irritable, rose and loudly sworeHe'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes),"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies!

ThenGilbert, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore

He'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;

And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes),

"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies!

"Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you,Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too!Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!"AndGilbertground his molars as he answered her, "I will!"

"Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you,

Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too!

Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!"

AndGilbertground his molars as he answered her, "I will!"

YoungGilbertrose from table with a stern determined look,And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;AndAnniewatched his movements with an interested air—For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare!

YoungGilbertrose from table with a stern determined look,

And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;

AndAnniewatched his movements with an interested air—

For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare!

He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, untilThis terrible Avenger of the Majesty of LawWas far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,

He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until

This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law

Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

AndAnniesaid, "OGilbert, dear, I do not understandWhy ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?"He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flayThe neck of that unmitigated villainPeter Gray!"

AndAnniesaid, "OGilbert, dear, I do not understand

Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?"

He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flay

The neck of that unmitigated villainPeter Gray!"

"Now,Gilbert,"Annieanswered, "wicked headsman just beware—I won't havePetertortured with that horrible affair;If you attempt to flay him, you will surely rue the day."But Gilbert said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way.

"Now,Gilbert,"Annieanswered, "wicked headsman just beware—

I won't havePetertortured with that horrible affair;

If you attempt to flay him, you will surely rue the day."

But Gilbert said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way.

He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,ForAnniewas awoman, and had pity in her heart!She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare;She only said, "Remember, for yourAnniewill be there!"

He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,

ForAnniewas awoman, and had pity in her heart!

She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare;

She only said, "Remember, for yourAnniewill be there!"

The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold took his stand,With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,And all the people noticed that the Engine of the LawWas far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold took his stand,

With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,

And all the people noticed that the Engine of the Law

Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block—The hatchet was uplifted for to settlePeter Gray,WhenGilbertplainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!"

The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,

And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block—

The hatchet was uplifted for to settlePeter Gray,

WhenGilbertplainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!"

'TwasAnnie, gentleAnnie, as you'll easily believe—"OGilbert, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve,It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow.

'TwasAnnie, gentleAnnie, as you'll easily believe—

"OGilbert, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve,

It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,

And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow.

"I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it,Gilbert Clay,And having quite surrendered all idea ofPeter Gray,I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand,For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand.

"I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it,Gilbert Clay,

And having quite surrendered all idea ofPeter Gray,

I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand,

For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand.

"In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before)To lacerate poorPeter Grayvindictively you swore;I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day,And so you will, you monster, for I'll marryPeter Gray!"[And so she did.]

"In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before)

To lacerate poorPeter Grayvindictively you swore;

I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day,

And so you will, you monster, for I'll marryPeter Gray!"

[And so she did.]

Sorryher lot who loves too well,Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,Sad are the sighs that own the spellUttered by eyes that speak too plainly;Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!Sad is the hour when sets the Sun—Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters,When to the ark the wearied oneFlies from the empty waste of waters!Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!

Sorryher lot who loves too well,

Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,

Sad are the sighs that own the spell

Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly;

Heavy the sorrow that bows the head

When Love is alive and Hope is dead!

Sad is the hour when sets the Sun—Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters,When to the ark the wearied oneFlies from the empty waste of waters!Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!

Sad is the hour when sets the Sun—

Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters,

When to the ark the wearied one

Flies from the empty waste of waters!

Heavy the sorrow that bows the head

When Love is alive and Hope is dead!

I'vepaintedShakespeareall my life—"An infant" (even then at play),"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,Then "Married toAnn Hathaway.""The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben.")His "First appearance on the stage,"His "Call before the curtain"—then"Rejoicings when he came of age."The bard play-writing in his room,The bard a humble lawyer's clerk,The bard a lawyer[1]—parson[2]—groom[3]—The bard deer-stealing, after dark.[1]"Go with me to a notary—seal me thereYour single bond."—Merchant of Venice, Act I., sc. 3.[2]"And there she shall, at Friar Lawrence' cell,Be shrived and married."—Romeo and Juliet, Act II., sc. 4.[3]"And give their fasting horses provender."—Henry the Fifth, Act IV., sc. 2.The bard a tradesman[4]—and a Jew[5]—The bard a botanist[6]—a beak[7]—The bard a skilled musician[8]too—A sheriff[9]and a surgeon[10]eke!Yet critics say (a friendly stock)That, though with all my skill I try,Yet even I can barely mockThe glimmer of his wondrous eye!One morning as a work I framed,There passed a person, walking hard;"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed,"How very like my dear old bard!"Oh, what a model he would make!"I rushed outside—impulsive me!—"Forgive the liberty I take,But you're so very"—"Stop!" said he."You needn't waste your breath or time,—I know what you are going to say,—That you're an artist, and that I'mRemarkably likeShakespeare. Eh?[4]"Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."—Troilus and Cressida, Act I., sc. 3.[5]"Then must the Jew be merciful."—Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc. 1.[6]"The spring, the summer,The childing autumn, angry winter, changeTheir wonted liveries."—Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II., sc. 1.[7]"In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the peace andcoram."—Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I., sc. 1.[8]"What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?"—King John, Act V., sc. 2.[9]"And I'll provide his executioner."—Henry the Sixth(Second Part), Act III., sc. 1.[10]"The lioness had torn some flesh away,Which all this while had bled."—As You Like It, Act IV., sc. 3."You wish that I would sit to you?"I clasped him madly round the waist,And breathlessly replied, "I do!""All right," said he, "but please make haste."I led him by his hallowed sleeve,And worked away at him apace,I painted him till dewy eve,—There never was a nobler face!"Oh, sir," I said, "a fortune grandIs yours, by dint of merest chance,—To sporthisbrow at second-hand,To wearhiscast-off countenance!"To rubhiseyes whene'er they ache—To wearhisbaldness ere you're old—To cleanhisteeth when you awake—To blowhisnose when you've a cold!"His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;"Bravo!" I said, "I recogniseThe phrensy of your prototype!"His scanty hair he wildly tore:"That's right," said I, "it shows your breed."He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore—"Bless me, that's very fine indeed!""Sir," said the grand Shakespearian boy(Continuing to blaze away),"You think my face a source of joy;That shows you know not what you say."Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps,I'm always thrown in some such stateWhen on his face well-meaning chapsThis wretched man congratulate."For, oh! this face—this pointed chin—This nose—this brow—these eyeballs too,Have always been the originOf all the woes I ever knew!"If to the play my way I find,To see a grand Shakespearian piece,I have no rest, no ease of mindUntil the author's puppets cease!"Men nudge each other—thus—and say,'This certainly isShakespeare'sson,'And merry wags (of course in play)Cry 'Author!' when the piece is done."In church the people stare at me,Their soul the sermon never binds;I catch them looking round to see,And thoughts ofShakespearefill their minds."And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,Who find it difficult to crownA bust withBrown'sinsipid smile,OrTomkins'sunmannered frown,"Yet boldly make my face their own,When (oh, presumption!) they requireTo animate a paving-stoneWithShakespeare'sintellectual fire."At parties where young ladies gaze,And I attempt to speak my joy,'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says,'The fond illusion don't destroy!'"Whene'er I speak my soul is wrungWith these or some such whisperings;''Tis pity that aShakespeare'stongueShould say such un-Shakespearian things!'"I should not thus be criticisedHad I a face of common wont:Don't envy me—now, be advised!"And, now I think of it, I don't!

I'vepaintedShakespeareall my life—"An infant" (even then at play),"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,Then "Married toAnn Hathaway."

I'vepaintedShakespeareall my life—

"An infant" (even then at play),

"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,

Then "Married toAnn Hathaway."

"The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben.")His "First appearance on the stage,"His "Call before the curtain"—then"Rejoicings when he came of age."

"The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben.")

His "First appearance on the stage,"

His "Call before the curtain"—then

"Rejoicings when he came of age."

The bard play-writing in his room,The bard a humble lawyer's clerk,The bard a lawyer[1]—parson[2]—groom[3]—The bard deer-stealing, after dark.

The bard play-writing in his room,

The bard a humble lawyer's clerk,

The bard a lawyer[1]—parson[2]—groom[3]—

The bard deer-stealing, after dark.

[1]"Go with me to a notary—seal me thereYour single bond."—Merchant of Venice, Act I., sc. 3.[2]"And there she shall, at Friar Lawrence' cell,Be shrived and married."—Romeo and Juliet, Act II., sc. 4.[3]"And give their fasting horses provender."—Henry the Fifth, Act IV., sc. 2.

[1]

"Go with me to a notary—seal me there

Your single bond."

—Merchant of Venice, Act I., sc. 3.

[2]

"And there she shall, at Friar Lawrence' cell,

Be shrived and married."

—Romeo and Juliet, Act II., sc. 4.

[3]

"And give their fasting horses provender."

—Henry the Fifth, Act IV., sc. 2.

The bard a tradesman[4]—and a Jew[5]—The bard a botanist[6]—a beak[7]—The bard a skilled musician[8]too—A sheriff[9]and a surgeon[10]eke!

The bard a tradesman[4]—and a Jew[5]—

The bard a botanist[6]—a beak[7]—

The bard a skilled musician[8]too—

A sheriff[9]and a surgeon[10]eke!

Yet critics say (a friendly stock)That, though with all my skill I try,Yet even I can barely mockThe glimmer of his wondrous eye!

Yet critics say (a friendly stock)

That, though with all my skill I try,

Yet even I can barely mock

The glimmer of his wondrous eye!

One morning as a work I framed,There passed a person, walking hard;"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed,"How very like my dear old bard!

One morning as a work I framed,

There passed a person, walking hard;

"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed,

"How very like my dear old bard!

"Oh, what a model he would make!"I rushed outside—impulsive me!—"Forgive the liberty I take,But you're so very"—"Stop!" said he.

"Oh, what a model he would make!"

I rushed outside—impulsive me!—

"Forgive the liberty I take,

But you're so very"—"Stop!" said he.

"You needn't waste your breath or time,—I know what you are going to say,—That you're an artist, and that I'mRemarkably likeShakespeare. Eh?

"You needn't waste your breath or time,—

I know what you are going to say,—

That you're an artist, and that I'm

Remarkably likeShakespeare. Eh?

[4]"Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."—Troilus and Cressida, Act I., sc. 3.[5]"Then must the Jew be merciful."—Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc. 1.[6]"The spring, the summer,The childing autumn, angry winter, changeTheir wonted liveries."—Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II., sc. 1.[7]"In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the peace andcoram."—Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I., sc. 1.[8]"What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?"—King John, Act V., sc. 2.[9]"And I'll provide his executioner."—Henry the Sixth(Second Part), Act III., sc. 1.[10]"The lioness had torn some flesh away,Which all this while had bled."—As You Like It, Act IV., sc. 3.

[4]

"Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."

—Troilus and Cressida, Act I., sc. 3.

[5]

"Then must the Jew be merciful."

—Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc. 1.

[6]

"The spring, the summer,

The childing autumn, angry winter, change

Their wonted liveries."

—Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II., sc. 1.

[7]

"In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the peace andcoram."

—Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I., sc. 1.

[8]

"What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?"

—King John, Act V., sc. 2.

[9]

"And I'll provide his executioner."

—Henry the Sixth(Second Part), Act III., sc. 1.

[10]

"The lioness had torn some flesh away,

Which all this while had bled."

—As You Like It, Act IV., sc. 3.

"You wish that I would sit to you?"I clasped him madly round the waist,And breathlessly replied, "I do!""All right," said he, "but please make haste."

"You wish that I would sit to you?"

I clasped him madly round the waist,

And breathlessly replied, "I do!"

"All right," said he, "but please make haste."

I led him by his hallowed sleeve,And worked away at him apace,I painted him till dewy eve,—There never was a nobler face!

I led him by his hallowed sleeve,

And worked away at him apace,

I painted him till dewy eve,—

There never was a nobler face!

"Oh, sir," I said, "a fortune grandIs yours, by dint of merest chance,—To sporthisbrow at second-hand,To wearhiscast-off countenance!

"Oh, sir," I said, "a fortune grand

Is yours, by dint of merest chance,—

To sporthisbrow at second-hand,

To wearhiscast-off countenance!

"To rubhiseyes whene'er they ache—To wearhisbaldness ere you're old—To cleanhisteeth when you awake—To blowhisnose when you've a cold!"

"To rubhiseyes whene'er they ache—

To wearhisbaldness ere you're old—

To cleanhisteeth when you awake—

To blowhisnose when you've a cold!"

His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;"Bravo!" I said, "I recogniseThe phrensy of your prototype!"

His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—

I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;

"Bravo!" I said, "I recognise

The phrensy of your prototype!"

His scanty hair he wildly tore:"That's right," said I, "it shows your breed."He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore—"Bless me, that's very fine indeed!"

His scanty hair he wildly tore:

"That's right," said I, "it shows your breed."

He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore—

"Bless me, that's very fine indeed!"

"Sir," said the grand Shakespearian boy(Continuing to blaze away),"You think my face a source of joy;That shows you know not what you say.

"Sir," said the grand Shakespearian boy

(Continuing to blaze away),

"You think my face a source of joy;

That shows you know not what you say.

"Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps,I'm always thrown in some such stateWhen on his face well-meaning chapsThis wretched man congratulate.

"Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps,

I'm always thrown in some such state

When on his face well-meaning chaps

This wretched man congratulate.

"For, oh! this face—this pointed chin—This nose—this brow—these eyeballs too,Have always been the originOf all the woes I ever knew!

"For, oh! this face—this pointed chin—

This nose—this brow—these eyeballs too,

Have always been the origin

Of all the woes I ever knew!

"If to the play my way I find,To see a grand Shakespearian piece,I have no rest, no ease of mindUntil the author's puppets cease!

"If to the play my way I find,

To see a grand Shakespearian piece,

I have no rest, no ease of mind

Until the author's puppets cease!

"Men nudge each other—thus—and say,'This certainly isShakespeare'sson,'And merry wags (of course in play)Cry 'Author!' when the piece is done.

"Men nudge each other—thus—and say,

'This certainly isShakespeare'sson,'

And merry wags (of course in play)

Cry 'Author!' when the piece is done.

"In church the people stare at me,Their soul the sermon never binds;I catch them looking round to see,And thoughts ofShakespearefill their minds.

"In church the people stare at me,

Their soul the sermon never binds;

I catch them looking round to see,

And thoughts ofShakespearefill their minds.

"And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,Who find it difficult to crownA bust withBrown'sinsipid smile,OrTomkins'sunmannered frown,

"And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,

Who find it difficult to crown

A bust withBrown'sinsipid smile,

OrTomkins'sunmannered frown,

"Yet boldly make my face their own,When (oh, presumption!) they requireTo animate a paving-stoneWithShakespeare'sintellectual fire.

"Yet boldly make my face their own,

When (oh, presumption!) they require

To animate a paving-stone

WithShakespeare'sintellectual fire.

"At parties where young ladies gaze,And I attempt to speak my joy,'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says,'The fond illusion don't destroy!'

"At parties where young ladies gaze,

And I attempt to speak my joy,

'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says,

'The fond illusion don't destroy!'

"Whene'er I speak my soul is wrungWith these or some such whisperings;''Tis pity that aShakespeare'stongueShould say such un-Shakespearian things!'

"Whene'er I speak my soul is wrung

With these or some such whisperings;

''Tis pity that aShakespeare'stongue

Should say such un-Shakespearian things!'

"I should not thus be criticisedHad I a face of common wont:Don't envy me—now, be advised!"And, now I think of it, I don't!

"I should not thus be criticised

Had I a face of common wont:

Don't envy me—now, be advised!"

And, now I think of it, I don't!

Whenall night long a chap remainsOn sentry-go, to chase monotonyHe exercises of his brains,That is, assuming that he's got any.Though never nurtured in the lapOf luxury, yet I admonish you,I am an intellectual chap,And think of things that would astonish you.I often think it's comicalHow Nature always does contriveThat every boy and every gal,That's born into the world alive,Is either a little Liberal,Or else a little Conservative!Fal lal la!When in that house M.P.'s divide,If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,They've got to leave that brain outside,And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.But then the prospect of a lotOf statesmen, all in close proximity,A-thinking for themselves, is whatNo man can face with equanimity.Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lalThat Nature wisely does contriveThat every boy and every gal,That's born into the world alive,Is either a little Liberal,Or else a little Conservative!Fal lal la!

Whenall night long a chap remains

On sentry-go, to chase monotony

He exercises of his brains,

That is, assuming that he's got any.

Though never nurtured in the lap

Of luxury, yet I admonish you,

I am an intellectual chap,

And think of things that would astonish you.

I often think it's comical

How Nature always does contrive

That every boy and every gal,

That's born into the world alive,

Is either a little Liberal,

Or else a little Conservative!

Fal lal la!

When in that house M.P.'s divide,If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,They've got to leave that brain outside,And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.But then the prospect of a lotOf statesmen, all in close proximity,A-thinking for themselves, is whatNo man can face with equanimity.Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lalThat Nature wisely does contriveThat every boy and every gal,That's born into the world alive,Is either a little Liberal,Or else a little Conservative!Fal lal la!

When in that house M.P.'s divide,

If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,

They've got to leave that brain outside,

And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.

But then the prospect of a lot

Of statesmen, all in close proximity,

A-thinking for themselves, is what

No man can face with equanimity.

Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal

That Nature wisely does contrive

That every boy and every gal,

That's born into the world alive,

Is either a little Liberal,

Or else a little Conservative!

Fal lal la!

A leafycot, where no dry rotHad ever been by tenant seen,Where ivy clung and wopses stung,Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed,Where treeses grew and breezes blew—A thatchy roof, quite waterproof,Where countless herds of dicky-birdsBuilt twiggy beds to lay their heads(My mother begs I'll make it "eggs,"But though it's true that dickies doConstruct a nest with chirpy noise,With view to rest their eggy joys,'Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,As I explain to her in vainFive hundred times, are faulty rhymes).'Neath such a cot, built on a plotOf freehold land, dweltMaryandHer worthy father, named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.He knew no guile, this simple man,No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,Except that plot of freehold landThat held the cot, andMary, andHer worthy father, named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.A grave and learned scholar he,Yet simple as a child could be.He'd shirk his meal to sit and cramA goodish deal of Eton Gram.No man alive could him nonplusWith vocative offilius;No man alive more fully knewThe passive of a verb or two;None better knew the worth than heOf words that end inb,d,t.Upon his green in early springHe might be seen endeavouringTo understand the hooks and crooksOfHenryand his Latin books;Or calling for his "Cæsar onThe Gallic War," like any don;Or, p'raps, expounding unto allHow mythicBalbusbuilt a wall.So lived the sage who's named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.To him one autumn day there cameA lovely youth of mystic name:He took a lodging in the house,And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,For, oh! that mild scholastic oneLet shooting for a single gun.By three or four, when sport was o'er,The Mystic One laid by his gun,And made sheep's eyes of giant size,Till after tea, atMary P.AndMary P.(so kind was she),She, too, made eyes of giant size,Whose every dart right through the heartAppeared to run that Mystic One.The Doctor's whim engrossing him,He did not know they flirted so.For, save at tea, "musa musæ,"As I'm advised, monopolisedAnd rendered blind his giant mind.But looking up above his cupOne afternoon, he saw them spoon."Aha!" quoth he, "you naughty lass!As quaint oldOvidsays, 'Amas!'"The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,And, claiming ruth, he said, "In soothI love your daughter, aged man:Refuse to join us if you can.Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,I'm wealthy though I'm lowly born.""Young sir," the aged scholar said,"I never thought you meant to wed:Engrossed completely with my books,I little noticed lovers' looks.I've lived so long away from man,I do not know of any planBy which to test a lover's worth,Except, perhaps, the test of birth.I've half forgotten in this wildA father's duty to his child.It is his place, I think it's said,To see his daughters richly wedTo dignitaries of the earth—If possible, of noble birth.If noble birth is not at hand,A father may, I understand(And this affords a chance for you),Be satisfied to wed her toABoucicaultorBaring—whichMeans any one who's very rich.Now, there's an Earl who lives hard by,—My child and I will go and tryIf he will make the maid his bride—If not, to you she shall be tied."They sought the Earl that very day;The Sage began to say his say.The Earl (a very wicked man,Whose face bore Vice's blackest ban)Cut short the scholar's simple tale,And said in voice to make them quail,"Pooh! go along! you're drunk, no doubt—Here,Peters, turn these people out!"The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,Returning, met the Mystic Youth."My darling boy," the Scholar said,"TakeMary—blessings on your head!"The Mystic Boy undid his vest,And took a parchment from his breast,And said, "Now, by that noble brow,I ne'er knew father such as thou!The sterling rule of common senseNow reaps its proper recompense.Rejoice, my soul's unequalled Queen,For I amDuke of Gretna Green!"

A leafycot, where no dry rot

Had ever been by tenant seen,

Where ivy clung and wopses stung,

Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed,

Where treeses grew and breezes blew—

A thatchy roof, quite waterproof,

Where countless herds of dicky-birds

Built twiggy beds to lay their heads

(My mother begs I'll make it "eggs,"

But though it's true that dickies do

Construct a nest with chirpy noise,

With view to rest their eggy joys,

'Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,As I explain to her in vainFive hundred times, are faulty rhymes).'Neath such a cot, built on a plotOf freehold land, dweltMaryandHer worthy father, named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.

'Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,

As I explain to her in vain

Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes).

'Neath such a cot, built on a plot

Of freehold land, dweltMaryand

Her worthy father, named by me

Gregory Parable, LL.D.

He knew no guile, this simple man,No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,Except that plot of freehold landThat held the cot, andMary, andHer worthy father, named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.

He knew no guile, this simple man,

No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,

Except that plot of freehold land

That held the cot, andMary, and

Her worthy father, named by me

Gregory Parable, LL.D.

A grave and learned scholar he,Yet simple as a child could be.He'd shirk his meal to sit and cramA goodish deal of Eton Gram.No man alive could him nonplusWith vocative offilius;No man alive more fully knewThe passive of a verb or two;None better knew the worth than heOf words that end inb,d,t.Upon his green in early springHe might be seen endeavouringTo understand the hooks and crooksOfHenryand his Latin books;Or calling for his "Cæsar onThe Gallic War," like any don;Or, p'raps, expounding unto allHow mythicBalbusbuilt a wall.So lived the sage who's named by meGregory Parable, LL.D.

A grave and learned scholar he,

Yet simple as a child could be.

He'd shirk his meal to sit and cram

A goodish deal of Eton Gram.

No man alive could him nonplus

With vocative offilius;

No man alive more fully knew

The passive of a verb or two;

None better knew the worth than he

Of words that end inb,d,t.

Upon his green in early spring

He might be seen endeavouring

To understand the hooks and crooks

OfHenryand his Latin books;

Or calling for his "Cæsar on

The Gallic War," like any don;

Or, p'raps, expounding unto all

How mythicBalbusbuilt a wall.

So lived the sage who's named by me

Gregory Parable, LL.D.

To him one autumn day there cameA lovely youth of mystic name:He took a lodging in the house,And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,For, oh! that mild scholastic oneLet shooting for a single gun.

To him one autumn day there came

A lovely youth of mystic name:

He took a lodging in the house,

And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,

For, oh! that mild scholastic one

Let shooting for a single gun.

By three or four, when sport was o'er,The Mystic One laid by his gun,And made sheep's eyes of giant size,

By three or four, when sport was o'er,

The Mystic One laid by his gun,

And made sheep's eyes of giant size,

Till after tea, atMary P.AndMary P.(so kind was she),She, too, made eyes of giant size,Whose every dart right through the heartAppeared to run that Mystic One.The Doctor's whim engrossing him,He did not know they flirted so.For, save at tea, "musa musæ,"As I'm advised, monopolisedAnd rendered blind his giant mind.

Till after tea, atMary P.

AndMary P.(so kind was she),

She, too, made eyes of giant size,

Whose every dart right through the heart

Appeared to run that Mystic One.

The Doctor's whim engrossing him,

He did not know they flirted so.

For, save at tea, "musa musæ,"

As I'm advised, monopolised

And rendered blind his giant mind.

But looking up above his cupOne afternoon, he saw them spoon."Aha!" quoth he, "you naughty lass!As quaint oldOvidsays, 'Amas!'"

But looking up above his cup

One afternoon, he saw them spoon.

"Aha!" quoth he, "you naughty lass!

As quaint oldOvidsays, 'Amas!'"

The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,And, claiming ruth, he said, "In soothI love your daughter, aged man:Refuse to join us if you can.Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,I'm wealthy though I'm lowly born.""Young sir," the aged scholar said,"I never thought you meant to wed:Engrossed completely with my books,I little noticed lovers' looks.I've lived so long away from man,I do not know of any planBy which to test a lover's worth,Except, perhaps, the test of birth.I've half forgotten in this wildA father's duty to his child.It is his place, I think it's said,To see his daughters richly wedTo dignitaries of the earth—If possible, of noble birth.If noble birth is not at hand,A father may, I understand(And this affords a chance for you),Be satisfied to wed her toABoucicaultorBaring—whichMeans any one who's very rich.Now, there's an Earl who lives hard by,—My child and I will go and tryIf he will make the maid his bride—If not, to you she shall be tied."

The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,

And, claiming ruth, he said, "In sooth

I love your daughter, aged man:

Refuse to join us if you can.

Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,

I'm wealthy though I'm lowly born."

"Young sir," the aged scholar said,

"I never thought you meant to wed:

Engrossed completely with my books,

I little noticed lovers' looks.

I've lived so long away from man,

I do not know of any plan

By which to test a lover's worth,

Except, perhaps, the test of birth.

I've half forgotten in this wild

A father's duty to his child.

It is his place, I think it's said,

To see his daughters richly wed

To dignitaries of the earth—

If possible, of noble birth.

If noble birth is not at hand,

A father may, I understand

(And this affords a chance for you),

Be satisfied to wed her to

ABoucicaultorBaring—which

Means any one who's very rich.

Now, there's an Earl who lives hard by,—

My child and I will go and try

If he will make the maid his bride—

If not, to you she shall be tied."

They sought the Earl that very day;The Sage began to say his say.

They sought the Earl that very day;

The Sage began to say his say.

The Earl (a very wicked man,Whose face bore Vice's blackest ban)Cut short the scholar's simple tale,And said in voice to make them quail,"Pooh! go along! you're drunk, no doubt—Here,Peters, turn these people out!"

The Earl (a very wicked man,

Whose face bore Vice's blackest ban)

Cut short the scholar's simple tale,

And said in voice to make them quail,

"Pooh! go along! you're drunk, no doubt—

Here,Peters, turn these people out!"

The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,Returning, met the Mystic Youth."My darling boy," the Scholar said,"TakeMary—blessings on your head!"

The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,

Returning, met the Mystic Youth.

"My darling boy," the Scholar said,

"TakeMary—blessings on your head!"

The Mystic Boy undid his vest,And took a parchment from his breast,And said, "Now, by that noble brow,I ne'er knew father such as thou!The sterling rule of common senseNow reaps its proper recompense.Rejoice, my soul's unequalled Queen,For I amDuke of Gretna Green!"

The Mystic Boy undid his vest,

And took a parchment from his breast,

And said, "Now, by that noble brow,

I ne'er knew father such as thou!

The sterling rule of common sense

Now reaps its proper recompense.

Rejoice, my soul's unequalled Queen,

For I amDuke of Gretna Green!"

I'vewisdom from the East and from the West,That's subject to no academic rule;You may find it in the jeering of a jest,Or distil it from the folly of a fool.I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind;I can trick you into learning with a laugh;Oh, winnow all my folly, and you'll findA grain or two of truth among the chaff!I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,The upstart I can wither with a whim;He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,But his laughter has an echo that is grim.When they're offered to the world in merry guise,Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will—For he who'd make his fellow-creatures wiseShould always gild the philosophic pill!

I'vewisdom from the East and from the West,

That's subject to no academic rule;

You may find it in the jeering of a jest,

Or distil it from the folly of a fool.

I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind;

I can trick you into learning with a laugh;

Oh, winnow all my folly, and you'll find

A grain or two of truth among the chaff!

I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,The upstart I can wither with a whim;He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,But his laughter has an echo that is grim.

I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,

The upstart I can wither with a whim;

He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,

But his laughter has an echo that is grim.

When they're offered to the world in merry guise,Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will—For he who'd make his fellow-creatures wiseShould always gild the philosophic pill!

When they're offered to the world in merry guise,

Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will—

For he who'd make his fellow-creatures wise

Should always gild the philosophic pill!

Thestory ofFrederick Gowler,A mariner of the sea,Who quitted his ship, theHowler,A-sailing in Caribbee.For many a day he wandered,Till he met, in a state of rum,Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop.The King of Canoodle-Dum.That monarch addressed him gaily,"Hum! Golly de do to-day?Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee"—(You notice his playful way?)—"What dickens you doin' here, sar?Why debbil you want to come?Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn't no seaIn City Canoodle-Dum!"AndGowlerhe answered sadly,"Oh, mine is a doleful tale!They've treated me werry badlyIn Lunnon, from where I hail.I'm one of the Family Royal—No common Jack Tar you see;I'mWilliam the Fourth, far up in the North,A King in my own countree!"Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered!Bang-bang! How they thumped the gongs!Bang-bang! How the people wondered!Bang-bang! At it, hammer and tongs!Alliance with Kings of EuropeIs an honour Canoodlers seek;Her monarchs don't stop withPeppermint DropEvery day in the week!Fredtold them that he wasundone,For his people all went insane,And fired the Tower of London,And Grinnidge's Naval Fane.And some of them racked St. James's,And vented their rage uponThe Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers' Hall,And the "Angel" at Islington.Calamity Popimplored himAt Canoodle-Dum to remainTill those people of his restored himTo power and rank again.Calamity Pophe made himA Prince of Canoodle-Dum,With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves,And the run of the royal rum.Popgave him his only daughter,Hum Pickety Wimple Tip:Fredvowed that if over the waterHe went, in an English ship,He'd make her his Queen,—though truly,It is an unusual thingFor a Caribbee brat who's as black as your hatTo be wife of an English King.And all the Canoodle-DummersThey copied his rolling walk,His method of draining rummers,His emblematical talk.For his dress and his graceful breeding,His delicate taste in rum,And his nautical way, were the talk of the dayIn the Court of Canoodle-Dum.Calamity Popmost wiselyDetermined in everythingTo model his Court preciselyOn that of the English King;And ordered that every ladyAnd every lady's lordShould masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy)And scatter its juice abroad.They signified wonder roundlyAt any astounding yarn,By darning their dear eyes roundly('Twas all that they had to darn).They "hoisted their slacks," adjustingGarments of plantain-leavesWith nautical twitches (as if they wore—stitches.Instead of a dress likeEve's!)They shivered their timbers proudly,At a phantom fore-lock dragged,And called for a hornpipe loudlyWhenever amusement flagged."Hum! Golly! himPopresemble,Him Britisher sov'reign, hum!Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop,De King of Canoodle-Dum!"The mariner's lively "Hollo!"Enlivened Canoodle's plain(For blessings unnumbered followIn Civilisation's train).But Fortune, who loves a bathos,A terrible ending planned,ForAdmiral D. Chickabiddy, C.B.,Placed foot on Canoodle land!That officer seizedKing Gowler;He threatened his royal brains,And put him aboard theHowler,And fastened him down with chains.TheHowlershe weighed her anchor,WithFredericknicely nailed,And off to the North withWilliam the FourthThat Admiral slowly sailed.Calamitysaid (with folly)"Hum! nebber want him again—Him civilise all of us, golly!Calamitysuck him brain!"The people, however, were pained whenThey saw him aboard the ship,But none of them wept for theirFreddy, exceptHum Pickity Wimple Tip.

Thestory ofFrederick Gowler,

A mariner of the sea,

Who quitted his ship, theHowler,

A-sailing in Caribbee.

For many a day he wandered,

Till he met, in a state of rum,

Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop.

The King of Canoodle-Dum.

That monarch addressed him gaily,"Hum! Golly de do to-day?Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee"—(You notice his playful way?)—"What dickens you doin' here, sar?Why debbil you want to come?Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn't no seaIn City Canoodle-Dum!"

That monarch addressed him gaily,

"Hum! Golly de do to-day?

Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee"—

(You notice his playful way?)—

"What dickens you doin' here, sar?

Why debbil you want to come?

Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn't no sea

In City Canoodle-Dum!"

AndGowlerhe answered sadly,"Oh, mine is a doleful tale!They've treated me werry badlyIn Lunnon, from where I hail.I'm one of the Family Royal—No common Jack Tar you see;I'mWilliam the Fourth, far up in the North,A King in my own countree!"

AndGowlerhe answered sadly,

"Oh, mine is a doleful tale!

They've treated me werry badly

In Lunnon, from where I hail.

I'm one of the Family Royal—

No common Jack Tar you see;

I'mWilliam the Fourth, far up in the North,

A King in my own countree!"

Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered!Bang-bang! How they thumped the gongs!Bang-bang! How the people wondered!Bang-bang! At it, hammer and tongs!Alliance with Kings of EuropeIs an honour Canoodlers seek;Her monarchs don't stop withPeppermint DropEvery day in the week!

Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered!

Bang-bang! How they thumped the gongs!

Bang-bang! How the people wondered!

Bang-bang! At it, hammer and tongs!

Alliance with Kings of Europe

Is an honour Canoodlers seek;

Her monarchs don't stop withPeppermint Drop

Every day in the week!

Fredtold them that he wasundone,For his people all went insane,And fired the Tower of London,And Grinnidge's Naval Fane.And some of them racked St. James's,And vented their rage uponThe Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers' Hall,And the "Angel" at Islington.

Fredtold them that he wasundone,

For his people all went insane,

And fired the Tower of London,

And Grinnidge's Naval Fane.

And some of them racked St. James's,

And vented their rage upon

The Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers' Hall,

And the "Angel" at Islington.

Calamity Popimplored himAt Canoodle-Dum to remainTill those people of his restored himTo power and rank again.Calamity Pophe made himA Prince of Canoodle-Dum,With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves,And the run of the royal rum.

Calamity Popimplored him

At Canoodle-Dum to remain

Till those people of his restored him

To power and rank again.

Calamity Pophe made him

A Prince of Canoodle-Dum,

With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves,

And the run of the royal rum.

Popgave him his only daughter,Hum Pickety Wimple Tip:Fredvowed that if over the waterHe went, in an English ship,He'd make her his Queen,—though truly,It is an unusual thingFor a Caribbee brat who's as black as your hatTo be wife of an English King.

Popgave him his only daughter,

Hum Pickety Wimple Tip:

Fredvowed that if over the water

He went, in an English ship,

He'd make her his Queen,—though truly,

It is an unusual thing

For a Caribbee brat who's as black as your hat

To be wife of an English King.

And all the Canoodle-DummersThey copied his rolling walk,His method of draining rummers,His emblematical talk.For his dress and his graceful breeding,His delicate taste in rum,And his nautical way, were the talk of the dayIn the Court of Canoodle-Dum.

And all the Canoodle-Dummers

They copied his rolling walk,

His method of draining rummers,

His emblematical talk.

For his dress and his graceful breeding,

His delicate taste in rum,

And his nautical way, were the talk of the day

In the Court of Canoodle-Dum.

Calamity Popmost wiselyDetermined in everythingTo model his Court preciselyOn that of the English King;And ordered that every ladyAnd every lady's lordShould masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy)And scatter its juice abroad.

Calamity Popmost wisely

Determined in everything

To model his Court precisely

On that of the English King;

And ordered that every lady

And every lady's lord

Should masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy)

And scatter its juice abroad.

They signified wonder roundlyAt any astounding yarn,By darning their dear eyes roundly('Twas all that they had to darn).They "hoisted their slacks," adjustingGarments of plantain-leavesWith nautical twitches (as if they wore—stitches.Instead of a dress likeEve's!)

They signified wonder roundly

At any astounding yarn,

By darning their dear eyes roundly

('Twas all that they had to darn).

They "hoisted their slacks," adjusting

Garments of plantain-leaves

With nautical twitches (as if they wore—stitches.

Instead of a dress likeEve's!)

They shivered their timbers proudly,At a phantom fore-lock dragged,And called for a hornpipe loudlyWhenever amusement flagged.

They shivered their timbers proudly,

At a phantom fore-lock dragged,

And called for a hornpipe loudly

Whenever amusement flagged.

"Hum! Golly! himPopresemble,Him Britisher sov'reign, hum!Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop,De King of Canoodle-Dum!"

"Hum! Golly! himPopresemble,

Him Britisher sov'reign, hum!

Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop,

De King of Canoodle-Dum!"

The mariner's lively "Hollo!"Enlivened Canoodle's plain(For blessings unnumbered followIn Civilisation's train).But Fortune, who loves a bathos,A terrible ending planned,ForAdmiral D. Chickabiddy, C.B.,Placed foot on Canoodle land!

The mariner's lively "Hollo!"

Enlivened Canoodle's plain

(For blessings unnumbered follow

In Civilisation's train).

But Fortune, who loves a bathos,

A terrible ending planned,

ForAdmiral D. Chickabiddy, C.B.,

Placed foot on Canoodle land!

That officer seizedKing Gowler;He threatened his royal brains,And put him aboard theHowler,And fastened him down with chains.TheHowlershe weighed her anchor,WithFredericknicely nailed,And off to the North withWilliam the FourthThat Admiral slowly sailed.

That officer seizedKing Gowler;

He threatened his royal brains,

And put him aboard theHowler,

And fastened him down with chains.

TheHowlershe weighed her anchor,

WithFredericknicely nailed,

And off to the North withWilliam the Fourth

That Admiral slowly sailed.

Calamitysaid (with folly)"Hum! nebber want him again—Him civilise all of us, golly!Calamitysuck him brain!"The people, however, were pained whenThey saw him aboard the ship,But none of them wept for theirFreddy, exceptHum Pickity Wimple Tip.

Calamitysaid (with folly)

"Hum! nebber want him again—

Him civilise all of us, golly!

Calamitysuck him brain!"

The people, however, were pained when

They saw him aboard the ship,

But none of them wept for theirFreddy, except

Hum Pickity Wimple Tip.

Spurnnot the nobly bornWith love affected,Nor treat with virtuous scornThe well connected.High rank involves no shame—We boast an equal claimWith him of humble nameTo be respected!Blue blood! Blue blood!When virtuous love is sought,Thy power is naught,Though dating from the Flood,Blue blood!Spare us the bitter painOf stern denials,Nor with low-born disdainAugment our trials.Hearts just as pure and fairMay beat in Belgrave SquareAs in the lowly airOf Seven Dials!Blue blood! Blue blood!Of what avail art thouTo serve me now?Though dating from the Flood,Blue blood!

Spurnnot the nobly born

With love affected,

Nor treat with virtuous scorn

The well connected.

High rank involves no shame—

We boast an equal claim

With him of humble name

To be respected!

Blue blood! Blue blood!

When virtuous love is sought,

Thy power is naught,

Though dating from the Flood,

Blue blood!

Spare us the bitter painOf stern denials,Nor with low-born disdainAugment our trials.Hearts just as pure and fairMay beat in Belgrave SquareAs in the lowly airOf Seven Dials!Blue blood! Blue blood!Of what avail art thouTo serve me now?Though dating from the Flood,Blue blood!

Spare us the bitter pain

Of stern denials,

Nor with low-born disdain

Augment our trials.

Hearts just as pure and fair

May beat in Belgrave Square

As in the lowly air

Of Seven Dials!

Blue blood! Blue blood!

Of what avail art thou

To serve me now?

Though dating from the Flood,

Blue blood!

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